Work Text:
That things would come to this was inevitable.
The fair lady Mainette--oh, pray tell of her beauty, maestro!--had swooned, and as Adrien cradled the delicate weight of her in his arms, his chest heated and tight, he recollected what, exactly, had happened, and his part in it...
***
“Marinette!” Adrien darted over to her as she ascended the steps of Francoise Dupont with all the supple grace of a fae leaving flowers in her wake on the grassy knolls. “You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you!”
Marinette threw her wrist onto her forehead, smacking it with a soft, fleshy sound. “Adrien, my dearest, I must prevail upon you to accept my most sincere apologies! But lo, my heart… It yearns for another!”
A pit in Adrien’s stomach opened up, threatening to swallow him whole. Jealousy curled behind his breastbone in the form of heat, creeping up to his cheeks, and his belly tightened. “Who, Marinette? Who, pray tell, has secured the affections of mine fair lady?” He thumped his chest. “I shall challenge him to a duel!”
Marinette’s eyes swelled to the size of blimps. “Oh, no, you musn’t!” she shrieked, injuring Adrien’s gentle but masculine ears. “For he is Chat Noir, and I cannot bear the thought of either of you being injured!”
Adrien’s jaw hung open like a boa constrictor preparing to swallow Multimouse. He shut it like a steel trap, of which his mind most certainly was not. “I shall indeed duel the man,” Adrien snarled, “for he has rent mine heart in twain and utterly destroyed any chance I may have at happiness! I will send him down to the depths of Hell and force him out the other side on this mortal coil so I may have the pleasant opportunity of shattering his skull once again!”
“Oh!” Marinette, upon gazing upon Adrien and hearing such vile and unpleasant words spewing from his perfectly-straight teeth, which enjoyed gnashing on steak salad and would likely grip Chat Noir’s throat, nearly swooned. Alya, who had just appeared at that very moment to be a support to her friend, as she is a side character whose purpose is just that, explaining why she doesn’t get very much screen time, caught Adrien’s fair lady, Marinette.
Adrien stalked away, a plan already forming in the back of his mind, which as I’ve mentioned before was not, indeed, a steel trap, or anything resembling such; his mind was more akin to a graphite pencil tip: easily broken and sometimes erased, such as Chat Noir’s kisses with Ladybug.
But I digress.
***
“My dear Rena Rogue.” Chat Noir, after watching Ladybug ‘bug out,’ as she was so fond of saying, the muscles in her arms tightening attractively as she flung her yo-yo off the roof, approached the fox-themed superheroine. “I need, in the common vernacular, of which I would never use except in the most dire of circumstances, which this most certainly is…”
“Yes, Chat?” Rena peered at him expectantly but not at all suggestively; he knew she had designs on Carapace and not Chat Noir, whom as far as she knew was a taken man. Clearly she didn’t know Chat Noir well enough, but that was only a preposition on his part and not actual knowledge; he suspected he knew what she thought but Chat Noir was often wrong about the designs of women. Such was his problem with the fair lady, Marinette!
Rena continued speaking when no utterance escaped his hanging jaw. “You have thoroughly piqued my curiosity, which is as you know is a disagreeable state for any woman of good breeding to be in.”
Chat swallowed hard, feeling his Adam’s apple bob like a dinghy in a hurricane. “I need you to do me a solid.”
“Oh?” Rena fluttered her eyelashes at him. “What sacrilege, pray tell, would you have me commit for you, my fair teammate? Please do endeavor to tell me quickly, as I understand very well that we are both bound by the properties of time, as you also know all too well yourself, being someone with ears to listen to the ‘beeping’ of your magical jewelry.”
Chat Noir hemmed and hawed like a man on the precipice of indecision. “As is your specialty…”
Rena leaned forward into his space, smelling of Italian red sauce, clearly the last thing she’d eaten, though Chat would have pegged her as more of an alfredo fan. He didn’t know why he thought that, simply acknowledged that he did and struggled to move on from being incorrect about his teammate, until she prompted him with an inquisitive--really, more inquisitive than any lady should ever be, but Chat was willing to let bygones be bygones--“Yes?”
“Please endeavor to hear me out. You have the ears to do so; I have no doubts about your ability to listen to what I am prepared to say.” Chat laced his clawed fingers together in front of him, ensuring he garnered all of her attention. “For I know that you are a very skilled--”
“Out with it, Chat Noir.”
That curt response was not at all what he expected from a lady of good breeding, so, stunned, Chat Noir blurted out, “I pray you will make me an illusion of Adrien Agreste beating me over the head with a surfboard and winning.”
Rena blinked slowly, her eyes appearing to film over like a fat layer needed to be skimmed off a Christmas pudding. “Why, pray tell, would you like me to do this?”
“Ah, ah, ah, no, I cannot tell you.” At Rena’s disappointed look--and oh, how Chat Noir hated to gather disappointed looks from fair ladies! The bane of his existence was disappointed looks, especially from fair ladies of whose opinions he valued so highly!--Chat sighed and slammed a clawed hand over his breastbone, nearly injuring himself. “I can only assure you that it is a matter of the heart and of mine honor, which has been most egregiously besmirched.”
“To have him win would no doubt besmirch your honor further, I am most certain.” Rena’s eyes, no longer filmy or glassy or anything other than eyes, glittered so maliciously, Chat Noir was once again stunned and questioning her own breeding and honor, which he should never do to a lady lest he start judging her for real, which would certainly put him in a position of--”I’ll do it.”
Chat seized her fingers and alighted a kiss on the backs of her knuckles. “Ah, my dear, I do appreciate you so very much. Please endeavor to allow the fair lady Marinette Dupain-Cheng to see the illusion--”
“--Another matter of the heart?” Rena’s gaze turned sharp and discerning, and Chat swallowed once again. “Why, pray tell--”
“I cannot!” The back of Chat’s hand flew to his forehead, much like Marinette’s had earlier that day. “Please, Ms. Rouge, I prevail upon you to forgive me my secrecy!” He cast about for an out, which Rena would most certainly not be providing him. “Isn’t this a delicious bit of gossip? You may tell this to whomever you please except for Ladybug and the fair lady in question!”
Desperation makes fools of us all!
Rena smiled like a shark having closed her massive jaws around her prey. “I pray that you will not regret that, Chat Noir, nor that you’ll have your heart trampled by Marinette or Ladybug, nor that you will have your honor continue to be besmirched. It most certainly won’t be from me.”
“Ms. Rouge, you are a jewel among women. I shall sing your praises for the rest of the evening and beyond if you will only allow me the pleasure.”
Rena chuckled coquettishly. “Or until your timer runs out, my dear Chat Noir!”
So Chat did.
***
Adrien did not expect the fight to be televised, but Nadja Chamock was on the scene before he could partition out who would be allowed to see and who would not.
Hiding in the bushes just outside the school, Adrien watched as an extremely convincing illusion of himself beat an extremely convincing illusion of himself over the head with various implements, including items such as a silver spoon from his own mouth, a rubber crocodile, a tutu, a water bottle, and yes, a surfboard.
The illusionary Adrien appeared to have a magical portal from which he was pulling all manner of weapons from, and the illusionary Chat Noir soon lagged under the frenetic assault.
“Take that, for besmirching my honor!” Adrien heard his own voice cry. “And that, and that!”
Marinette was, as expected, thoroughly horrified. And possibly impressed? She stood on the steps next to Nino, who consistently uttered his customary phrases of, “Come now, old boy. Come now, be reasonable.”
Rena was certainly upholding her end of the bargain, Adrien thought graciously and contentedly, but he wondered how he was going to appear in front of his fair lady to claim her hand.
Just when the illusionary Chat Noir appeared to faint from being smacked by a watermelon, the illusionary Adrien pulled out what looked like a small grenade, causing everyone but Marinette to take cover.
“Eat my smoke, you swag-bellied maggot pie!” Illusionary Adrien cried, throwing the grenade down. Fake orange--nice touch Rena, the real Adrien thought--smoke exploded outward, filling the area, and Marinette’s strangled cry filled Adrien’s ears.
The two illusionary combatants disappeared. Marinette began swooning, falling backwards with her hand pressed to her head, and Adrien sprang from his hiding place, pouncing like a Chat Noir to a Multimouse, catching her delicate weight in his arms and ending up in just the position we started the story with.
“Adrien, old boy,” Nino said, coming up from wherever he’d been hiding and laying a hand on Adrien’s shoulder. “What the devil could have possibly possessed you to declare a duel with Chat Noir, a superhero and the one who had won the affections of the fair lady, Marinette?”
“That, is exactly why,” Adrien replied, feeling not an iota of guilt for subjecting the fair lady to such a vulgar display, which she was only right to swoon at, being a lady of good breeding and so very delicate in his arms. “Without fistificuffs, I would no longer appear as the apple of her eyes, which are the most gorgeous blue--”
“Adrien!” Marinette rose back into consciousness like a flower straightening after having been stepped on. Everything she did was delicate, which is why Adrien had fallen for her like a man plummeting off a cliff. “You won!”
“I did, indeed.” Adrien took her hand in his and pressed a kiss there. “And, pray tell, how do you feel about Chat Noir now, my love?”
“He is a vile creature who deserves not my affections.” Marinette did not scoff, as that would be ill-suited to a woman of good breeding, though Adrien could tell from her eyes that she wanted to. She shifted in his arms. “And you, my dear Adrien, are welcome to place a calling card in my father’s hat.”
Adrien’s heart swelled. He had not only won a duel against himself, thanks to Rena’s machinations, he’d won the love of his fair lady, whom he still currently held in his arms and would prefer to hold for the rest of their lives together.
It was a good day, indeed.